


Plead the Fifth

by BrielleSPN



Series: Cockles smuts and stuffs [2]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Dom Misha, Dom/sub Undertones, Established yet Secret Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jensen Ackles, Jus in Bello Convention, M/M, Polyamory, Protective Misha Collins, Sub Jensen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:49:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrielleSPN/pseuds/BrielleSPN
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha can see that Jensen is uncomfortable and upset after his JiBCon5 panel and does his best to fix things in his own unique way. Jensen is surprised, and unexpectedly moved by Misha's solution to the problem.</p><p>No smut, just pure teeth-rotting fluff. Sue me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plead the Fifth

**Author's Note:**

> Right, so... I don't know much about fandom, I've only just begun to tentatively find my way in it, but what I DO know is what I see, and I wrote this because--even mildly entrenched--I am already astounded by the (admittedly small) but still rampant contingent of so-called SPN Family who are constantly flinging shit at our boys. ALL our boys. C’mon people… pull your heads in and stop acting like mindless monkeys, you’re, nay, WE'RE, better than that. Hate hurts everybody. Especially the beautiful bastards that make our beloved show. Love the show. Love the boys. Love each other. You insist you’re a part of this family… prove it and start spreading love and support, not hate and lies. 
> 
> Okay, I'm done. Rant over. Enjoy the story. And if I've inadvertently offended anyone with this… Fuck it.
> 
> The video and song that inspired this can be found: [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_6EIyipV-X0), [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ANdAxWthgA0) [videos] and [here](https://soundcloud.com/sanctuesque/plead-the-fifth-deans-lullaby) [song]  
> (If you haven’t heard it, go listen to it now. Seriously, I’ll wait. Or - even better - have it playing during the appropriate part of the story. Then you can imagine yourself there. _You're welcome_.)

Misha left the stage to a rousing chorus of cheers and catcalls. Unfortunately for the fans, he barely registered their loudly voiced love, disconnecting from the whole misadventure the split second he put down his mike. The fans immediately ceased to exist for him in the wake of his concern for Jensen, his only thought to get to the green room and his friend. Immediately. He barely even noticed that Daniella was speaking to him as he came offstage. He rudely ignored her, he’d find her later and apologize of course, but for now he allowed her to trail off in his wake as he hurried away; finding Jensen and making sure he was okay was an itch he needed to scratch before he could even consider doing anything else. Jensen was hurting and Misha would be there for him, and that was that.

He considered pulling out his phone and checking twitter, but dismissed the idea as fruitless almost immediately, concerned that he would find his worst fears were fully founded and rumors were already speeding along the airwaves like wildfire. Again. He _really_ didn't need the distraction that confirmation would cause him, what he needed was to find Jensen. Now.  _Right. fucking. now_.

As he hurried down the corridor, his mind drifted back to his and Jensen’s impromptu panel an hour before and he tried desperately to analyse it critically without letting his irritation at the fans, and concern for Jensen color his thoughts. They’d ended the panel well, he supposed, the fake ‘kiss’ kept the fans that Jensen had unwittingly isolated earlier happy, and seemed to help everyone forget that mere moments before, Jensen had been floundering, caught unwillingly in a slow boiling storm created by a seemingly innocent question from a fan about the relationship between Dean and Castiel on the show. Jensen usually deflected these types of questions, hence last year’s messiness, or made a joke or some other such silliness, but Misha knew that he was tired and severely jet-lagged today, and because of what happened last time it just seemed to strike a chord. _He_ understood that Jensen had answered in the best, most honest way he knew how, but after what had happened at the New Jersey con the previous year, he worried that the fans would read something else into Jen’s answer and use it to reaffirm the queerbaiting rumors that had been plaguing the cast for a while now, Jensen in particular even being called homophobic.

They all knew this was bullshit, of course, considering the fact that Jensen and Misha had been involved in a polyamorous relationship with their wives for the past several years; but they kept that part of their lives private, guarding it jealously, resulting in the fans being totally in the dark. Oh there were rumors of course, Jensen was totally useless at hiding his feelings when they were on stage together, but they hadn't publicly confirmed anything, so they remained just that, rumors. They gave the fans so much of themselves, this was _theirs_. But their need to keep their relationship separate from the hype also meant that Jensen suffered the fans occasional elitist bullshit in silence, only ever showing Misha, Dani and Jared how deeply it hurt him.

Oh the SPN Family was for the most part amazing, open minded and supportive of the entire cast and crew and each other, but there were a few malcontents among them, as with most families, and these were the ones who did their best to stir up shit whenever they could. Ridiculous stories had surfaced at different times about Jensen hating Misha and/or Jared, this small contingent seeming unable to reconcile the fact that each relationship could offer something unique and totally separate from the other. Misha supposed it was what made them a real family, not everybody always got along, but he was used to shouldering the load and copping the bulk of the hate, and it devastated him to see Jensen be the one caught in the crossfire this round.

He reflected on Jensen’s thoughtful and considered answer, he thought he had chosen his words brilliantly, however an almost immediate undercurrent of discontent had pervaded the crowd, they’d started reaching for their phones and mumbling to themselves and Jensen, who was already nervous enough upon finding out that he was doing the panel alone, was powerless to do anything about it and as a result of his natural shyness and current incapacity to gain control of the unfolding situation, he channeled it inward in a classic Dean Winchester move, and got increasingly more agitated as the hour wore on, tugging at his shirt in a sure sign of his discomfort. His commentary progressively became more clipped and even borderline snarky, culminating in him managing to alienate the entire audience in one fell swoop by making fun of the Harry Potter hat that was inside one of the many boxed presents the fans had piled on the stage for them. He was so tense by that point, he hadn't realized it was a labor of love, a reference to a previous con where he’d been asked what his ‘hat’ would be – Misha’s was a sock monkey, Jared’s, moose antlers – and upon throwing the question back at the fans at said con for them to answer, the shouted reply had been the Sorting Hat, hence the prop. Although, Misha couldn't even fathom how they could possibly be expected to remember every little thing that happened at these events. It wasn't like they obsessively watched the videos that were shared online like the fans did. They had lives after all.

Misha sighed and increased his pace, striding through the corridors. He’d spent his panel trying to placate the audience, over-sharing and embarrassing himself even more than usual in a bid to distract from what had happened with Jensen; but he was restless and distracted the entire time, unable to stay fully focused, and he could feel the disconnect from the audience, feel the rumors and whispers mounting around them as a tangible thing, seeing in his mind’s eye the shit storm that was about to erupt online. And he wanted to protect Jensen from it all. Looking at it objectively he knew that he couldn't stave it off forever, he only dreamed of having that sort of power, but he could shield Jensen for now, and be there when he needed him after the inevitable fallout hit them. The backlash from last year had almost broken Jensen, and Misha wanted nothing more than to wrap him in his arms and protect him from the world, even though deep down he knew he couldn't control everything. Besides, Jensen was stronger than that and would feel emasculated if he tried. Misha was happy to allow him his dignity in this. He could, and did, control pretty much all other aspects of their relationship.

He pushed open the door to the green room slowly, not wanting to startle Jensen if he was in there, simultaneously hoping he was so that he wouldn't have to go searching for him, and that he wasn't, meaning it hadn't hit him as hard as he knew it had. Unfortunately Jensen _was_ there and Misha closed his eyes briefly against the sight of his friend sitting at the table, shoulders slumped in defeat, head in his hands. Steeling himself, he entered the room quietly, locking the door behind him and crossed to where Jensen sat. Resting his hands on the younger man’s shoulders, he dropped a gentle kiss into his hair and rubbed his chin briefly across the crown of his head. Jensen sighed heavily and leaned into the contact, his head falling naturally into the slight concave of Misha’s stomach.

 

“What are you doing sitting here on your own? Where’s Jared?”

“Right now? Probably finishing off his photo ops, then he’s got an autograph session.”

“You shouldn't be alone right now.” Misha scolded mildly, carding his fingers into Jensen’s short hair. He toyed with the strands for a moment, then patting them back in place, gently asked, “How are you?”

Jensen shuddered and hissed a breath out between his teeth, not answering immediately. Misha let him take his time gathering his thoughts, he knew Jensen had probably been worrying at what had happened like a tongue at a split lip.

“I fucked up royally didn't I?” The soft observation was more statement than question. “It wasn't just the question, it was the whole damn thing. I let it all get to me. Shit. If only they knew…” he trailed off with a sigh.

“Jen, no. You didn't do anything wrong." Misha reassured him firmly. "Fuck it, if the network would just grow some balls and stop the bullshit…”

“Mish,” Jensen looked up at his friend resignedly. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it man. We've all put up with some form of shit like this before. We got through it then, we’ll get through it this time. I’ll be fine.”

Without moving away, Misha reached down and pulled his phone out of the back pocket of his jeans, swiping at the screen, “I’ll get on twitter now. If we head this off before it goes overboard, we can-“

Jensen reached up and plucked the phone from the other man’s fingers, locking it and dropping it onto the table. “Mish, please don't.” he pleaded. “You’ll just make it worse. And we’ll only end up having to field questions about _why_ you jumped online and started defending me so vigorously. _I. am. okay_.” he stressed.

But the older man could tell by the set of his lover's shoulders and the clench of his jaw that he was most decidedly _not ok._ In fact, he could see that Jensen was pretty damn far from ok, and was still deeply distressed by what had happened before he had come on and crashed his panel. Misha had been sitting backstage watching on the monitors – he could never pass up the chance to watch the younger man work, and he especially loved to see Jensen light up when he spoke about their relationship, however obscurely – and had realized immediately that Jensen was in trouble after the hat incident, sensing the mood in the room shifting subtly as the panel wore on in response to Jensen’s comments and defensive sarcasm.

Misha had recognized the slightly frantic look on Jensen’s face when he opened the second box, almost indiscernible to anyone else watching, for what it was, anguish and panic, _not_ arrogance and dismissal as others saw, and finally he couldn’t stand it anymore and had stepped in unthinkingly to try to diffuse the situation, his overpowering need to help and protect Jensen coming to the forefront before he was even fully aware what had happened. He had reached out to him on instinct, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek in a gesture of comfort and reassurance, the only one he could offer at the time, his single thought to shield Jensen from the disparaging laughter, and not even registering that they were on stage for a timeless moment as he questioned him, seeking confirmation that he was okay to continue.

Jensen had nodded imperceptibly, his usually expressive eyes closing over and becoming unreadable as he turned his back to the crowd to gather himself, then continued the panel, joking and laughing past his discomfort like the true professional he was, and only Misha could tell that he was still troubled by the situation.

So Misha had done what he did best, making jokes at his own expense, embarrassing himself over and over again to the delight of the crowd, anything he could do to deflect the attention from Jensen. There was a moment where he nearly lost his composure, straight after the fake ‘kiss’, where Jensen leaned into him with a cheeky smile and whispered “Why’d you use your hand?” and all he could do was stare at him in blind shock for an endless moment, then laugh as he watched the sparkle creep back into the other man’s eyes, understanding that for Jen to make a joke, even a small one at Misha’s expense, he must have calmed down somewhat enough to tease him, however inappropriately. Things settled down a bit after that and the panel seemed to run semi-smoothly from then on. But Misha had watched Jensen throughout their time onstage together, letting the other man know that he was safe simply with his presence.

But the minute Jensen had stepped offstage, he dropped his stage persona and it was glaringly obvious that it had all been an act. Misha had hugged him tightly before he left the stage, and in that moment he was fully aware of how much Jensen hadn't calmed down after all, he was just a bloody good actor. Jensen was trembling, his shakiness imperceptible to the eye, but glaringly obvious to Misha as they embraced, and all he could do was watch helplessly as the younger man visibly shut down and drew into himself as he walked away, his shoulders slumping, causing Misha to worry throughout his own panel, wanting nothing more than to drop everything and bolt after him. He couldn't of course, so he contented himself with using the time devise a plan to relax, comfort and reassure the younger man.

 

“Come here.” Misha ordered softly, and grasping Jensen’s hand, tugged him up from his spot at the table and over to the sofa by the door. He sat and patted the sofa cushions next to him invitingly, resting one arm along the back of the lounge, and Jensen sank down into the softness, his tension a tangible and bitter taste on the air.

“Mish, I… I needed you and you came. Thank you.” He ran a hand agitatedly through his hair and leaned into Misha.

“Always.” Misha reassured him firmly, dropping his arm around Jensen's shoulders and trailing his fingers idly up and down his bicep. "I will always come for you."

“That was… brutal.” Jensen huffed out a breath, shaking his head in confusion. “Sometimes I don’t know if the fans love us or hate us,” he mumbled, shaking his head sadly.

"They love you. They’re just… passionate.”

Jensen’s choked laugh was borderline hysterical, “Yeah. You can say that again. I just… I don’t know how to deal with it sometimes y’know? All the questions about Dean and Cas, they hit so close to home. And I always manage to say the wrong thing and piss one group or the other off.”

“I know Jen,” Misha murmured soothingly.

“Thanks for saving me.”

"Always." Misha repeated. “You just need to not take it so seriously Jensen. Take it as a compliment. Laugh it off. Make a joke. _Sing_.” He smiled reassuringly. “They love that.”

“I know. But I can’t always do that Mish. Dean is… well he’s real to me in a way that I never though a character could be. This show has given me so much. An amazing life, a best friend in Jared… _You_. Dean’s my legacy. I’m proud of him.”

“And you should be.” Misha told him. “What you and Jared have done… the way you've brought the characters to life for everyone… it’s amazing. But what you've done with Dean? That’s nothing short of brilliance Jen. That’s why the fans are so fanatical. You've made Dean _real_ to them. They love him and they want to see him happy and whole. And a large contingent of them believe Castiel is the only one who can do that.”

Jensen sighed heavily and ran his hand over his face again. “I _know_ that Mish, I do. I just wish… I wish the writers would just make up their minds already. The subtext in the show isn't just driving the fans mad, it’s wrecking me too.”

“And me.” Misha said quietly.

“I know.”

Misha shifted and gently dislodged Jensen from his side. “Here, stand up and take your shirt off. Let me help you relax.”

Jensen groaned, and frowned, turning to look at Misha tiredly, “Mish? I'm not in..."

“Not like that you pervert. Not right now anyway.” Misha grinned, the action lighting up his brilliant blue eyes and taking the sting out of his words. “I’m going to put some music on and give you a massage.”

“Oh.” Jensen rolled his shoulders experimentally, wincing slightly as the burn of tension lit a path across the muscles in his upper back. "Okay."

Misha rose and retrieved his phone from the table, fiddling with it and opening the music player, then placing it back on the table before turning and pulling up short, momentarily distracted by the sight of Jensen divesting himself of his shirt, the well-defined muscles of his back rippling invitingly in the dim light. He closed his eyes briefly and shook his head to clear his thoughts before they dissolved into something less charitable and more lust-fueled, then took a steadying breath and returned to the lounge, scooting in behind Jensen. He sat, pulling Jensen down with him and positioning him in between his legs, strong thighs resting on either side of the other man’s hips, effectively trapping him in place.

Jensen obeyed automatically, settling himself easily between Misha’s legs with a sigh, and listened as the opening strains of Leonard Cohen’s ‘Hallelujah’ filled the room. He smiled to himself, Misha knew him so well. He always knew just what he needed. He knew Jensen liked this type of music and that it would be calming for him after the hellish day he’d had. Misha moved slightly behind him, getting himself situated properly, then began methodically kneading the tension from his shoulders with long, firm movements over his back and neck. Jensen started to relax backwards against him, frowning slightly as the lyrics began, and instead of the expected gravelly male voice and well known refrain, a haunting, almost angelic female voice and different lyrics began in its place.

“What…?”

“Jen, just listen.” Misha ordered gently, brushing a kiss to the tip of his ear.

Jensen shuddered at the fleeting touch, glancing backwards at the older man. Misha smiled gently and noting the tender look on his face, Jensen gave him his trust, closing his eyes and sinking back into him. He let his head fall forward and gave himself over to Misha’s hypnotic strokes on his skin, nimble fingers slowly soothing the tension in Jensen’s shoulders with sure, even caresses. There was nothing sexual in his movements, it was pure comfort and support, and Jensen allowed himself to relax, his hands drifting down to rest in his lap, listening raptly as the girl began to sing in earnest.

 

_Well I heard your prayers from far below_  
_But down in hell, how could you know_  
_I listened, every word you said, I heard ya_  
_But after this_  
_I plead the fifth_  
_Before my fall, after your lift_  
_I swore I heard you say the Hallelujah_  
  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
  
_I know you're strong, but I can't explain_  
_I've seen you die over again_  
_Only you would still want to pray to me_  
_She tied me up where angels fall_  
_She made me deaf to all your calls_  
_And from my lips she drew our Hallelujah_  
  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
  
_Righteous man, that's what they said_  
_But still you lie awake in bed_  
_And listen to the shadows, knife clutched tightly_  
_But when sleep came it could not kill_  
_The fears on which your skin would chill_  
_Those nights I wish I'd sang out Hallelujah_  
  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
  
_There was a time when I couldn't say_  
_What truly had me led astray_  
_But now I understand what pushed me, from grace_  
_It was your breath, your eyes, your face_  
_Your courage drove to the sticking place_  
_And there I fell all for your Hallelujah_  
  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
  
_Maybe there's a God above_  
_Through you he tried to teach me love_  
_A long and winding road that lead me to ya_  
_Don't think that I've abandoned hope_  
_Still I hang onto this rope_  
_And I won't let go till I find our Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah, Hallelujah_  
_Hallelujah, Hallelujah…_

 

The words were beautiful, heartfelt and heartbreaking and when the song came to the closing verses, he felt a tear slip unheeded down his face. As the last few notes drifted off into silence, he turned to gaze at Misha wonderingly. “ _Fuck_ ,” he breathed.

“Ahhh,” Misha said softly, stretching out a slender finger he caught the tear as it escaped down Jensen’s cheek and raised it to his lips, tasting it. “The famous ‘single man tear’.”

“That was… That was _amazing_.” Jensen said in awe, his eyes tracked Misha's movements, lingering on the other mans lips for a timeless moment before skittering away. “Where’d you find it?”

“Someone sent me the link on twitter,” Misha’s eyes crinkled as he smiled and wrapped his arms around Jensen’s upper torso, trapping him, seeking out his eyes from his somewhat awkward position behind him. “Jen, I know it was written for Dean, and sung from Cas’ point of view, and I understand that makes you uncomfortable-” Jensen started to object, but Misha stopped him, putting a finger to his lips and Jensen lowered his eyes. Reaching down across Jensen’s chest and catching his hand, threading their fingers together. He raised Jensen's chin with his other hand, and caught his eye, “– _but_ ,” he continued firmly, “it’s how I feel about you.” His smile dropped and he turned serious, gazing into Jensen’s green eyes. “Actually it’s perfect.”

Jensen sighed and agreed, melting into his lovers arms. “Yeah. I love you too, Mish.” The words flowed from his lips with an ease that bespoke familiarity and comfort.

Misha nodded, accepting the declaration freely. “That’s how they feel about Dean and Cas. That’s why they constantly pester us, pester _you_.” He told him, nuzzling into his neck and placing a loving kiss to the bolt of his jaw. “You've done that. You've brought Dean to life for them, inspired in the fans a deep abiding passion for your character.”

“You too.” Jensen protested softly, “There’s no Dean and Cas without you.” Misha simply nodded again against his throat, acknowledging the compliment graciously. Now wasn't the time to delve into his own issues.

“Perhaps,” he mused thoughtfully, “but if I hadn't had you to mirror, to learn from and bounce off, it would never have risen to the heights it has. It doesn't happen with Jared, or Mark, or anyone else. The chemistry just isn't there. But with you…” he sighed against Jensen’s skin, making him shiver. “You’re the catalyst… the spark. You’re my muse Jen. It’s only in your light that I shine. You make me _more_ than I've even been. And most importantly, you inspire me to _want_ to be more.”

Jensen’s breath caught at the praise and he melted, his body rendered boneless and his mind calming in the presence of Misha’s gentle ministrations and assurances.

“Thank you,” he murmured gratefully, raising their entwined fingers to his lips and kissing the back of Misha’s hand. “You always know what to say.”

“Yeah, well you make it easy to find the words.” Misha raised his head, bringing other hand to Jensen’s face and cupped his cheek with fingers that trembled faintly. “Thank _you_.” He said earnestly, gazing into Jensen’s eyes and kissing him tenderly.

Jensen lost himself for a moment in the kiss, Misha's lips were soft but dominating and he shivered with it. “What for?” he asked when they finally broke apart.

“For being you, Jen. Just for being you.”


End file.
